


Make once more my heart thy home

by anisstaranise



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Established Relationship, M/M, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 07:52:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13713264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anisstaranise/pseuds/anisstaranise
Summary: The Reaper offered another kind smile. “Humans are granted four lives; life of planting, life of watering, life of harvesting and life of using what was harvested. Four reincarnations.”





	Make once more my heart thy home

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Seblaintine's Day 2018](http://seblaineaffairs.tumblr.com/tagged/seblaintine%27s-2018)  
> Bingo line: forget-me-not, apology, term of endearment, "ever thine, ever mine, ever ours", table for two.
> 
> This story is inspired by the Korean drama **Guardian: The Lonely and Great God**. Not really an AU of the show but some borrowed storylines shaped to fit the story.
> 
> Title from Percy B. Shelley's " _Rarely, rarely, comest thou_."

A gold rimmed box crashed onto the stone floor, ancestral sigils and heirlooms passed from generation to generation of the Ander family clattering to the ground. Blaine flinched at the thunderous sound, his eyes falling to a ring that had rolled to a stop by his boot.

“How does an army of ten defeat hundreds of Saxons?” the king bellowed, his face red with fury.

“Your Majesty-” Blaine tried to quip but was interrupted when the king- his brother- flung his arm, sending the silver wine pitcher flying, clanging against the far wall.

Blaine remained standing by the door, terrified by the king’s deranged anger and paralysed by confusion. Why was he so livid? The army of ten- the Royal Paladin- who had successfully defeated the Saxons in the North were _his_ men- led by his most loyal general, the Smythes’ eldest son, Sebastian.

A small smile tugged at the corners of Blaine’s mouth at the thought of Sebastian despite the king’s tantrum. The Smythes have served the Anders for generations in every aspect and rank; councilmen, scholars, soldiers- and no one more devoted than Sebastian. In that moment, Blaine’s chest heaved with gladness and relief. Sebastian was returning, triumphant once more in the face of battle.

“How?” the king said, just above a whisper. If the chamber hadn’t been so quiet and still Blaine wasn’t sure he would have heard it.

“Your Majesty, I do not understand,” he said, braving himself to take a few steps forward but his brother hadn’t heard him. It didn’t seem like his brother noticed he was even there.

The king was whispering something, saying something to himself. Blaine strained to make out the words even now that he was standing next to his brother.

“Yes, it must be,” the king muttered. Blaine caught a wild look in his brother’s eyes. “It must be.”

“Your Majest-”

“Sorcerer!” the king yelled suddenly, sending rolls of parchment tumbling as he swept his hand across his desk. “General Smythe- he must be a sorcerer.”

Blaine stumbled a few steps back, a chill shooting through his veins.

“Cooper-” Blaine said, calling his brother by his name now in hopes it would capture his attention. “-please, Cooper, look at me.”

The king stilled, hair wild and falling over his face, in his eyes.

“You’ve known all along, haven’t you?” Cooper asked.

“Known what?”

“That Sebastian- your lover-” his brother spat, disgust contorting his handsome features, darkening his blue eyes. “- is a sorcerer.”

There was a ringing in Blaine’s ears from thoughts whirring too fast in his mind. He was trying to make sense of his brother’s words, the atrocious accusation.

“Cooper, what you’re saying- it’s fantasy,” he said. “Sebastian Smythe, a sorcerer? It’s absurd.”

“It’s the only explanation,” Cooper said, turning away from him, his hands clasped behind his back. It was what Cooper did when he had made up his mind.

“It’s mad,” Blaine said, his frustration brimming at the edges of his sanity.

“I am not mad!” Cooper shouted, defensive. His brother was facing him now, hands at his sides clenched in a tight fist.

Blaine softened slightly, his hands up in a show of surrender as he approached Cooper slowly, like his brother was a terrified furred-game caught in a trap.

“I am not saying you’re mad, Cooper,” he said softly, gently. He knew how sensitive the matter of his brother’s mind could be. After their father suffered from dementia in his old age, Cooper had been paranoid that his mind would deteriorate in the same manner.

Cooper was always obsessed with being just like their father- a great king, a master negotiator- and revered by the people. In many ways he was indeed just like their father. But that admiration turned into fear after their father slowly lost his mind and memories. For the first time, Cooper had wished he wasn’t anything like their father.

“I am not saying you’re mad-” Blaine repeated. “-but you’re not making sense.”

There was a glint in Cooper’s eyes, the blues shining now. Blaine couldn’t read his brother’s emotions but it looked much like fear- and excitement.

“He’s got you under his spell,” Cooper breathed.

Blaine’s heart raced a frantic pace. _You_ are _mad_ , he thought.

“No one is a sorcerer, Cooper. No one is under a spell. By god, brother, listen to yourself.”

Cooper’s lips trembled. “The people- they revere Sebastian- like he was their sovereign, their saviour-”

“He’s led our army to victory countless times, Cooper. Of course they see him as a saviour-”

“ _I_ am their saviour!” Cooper bellowed, the wildness in his eyes returning. “ _I_ am their king!”

Blaine was stunned, his palms suddenly cold with sweat. His brother wasn’t mad- he was _envious_.

Growing up, Blaine always knew Cooper had the desire to be on everyone’s good side, to earn their favours and admiration. His brother always had to be the _most_ in everything; most skilled in training, most intelligent in lessons, most eligible at court. Most, most, most. Even the slightest competition would send his brother into hysteria.

But that hysteria had never caused anyone harm- not physical, at least. And now... now Blaine didn’t know what to make of things.

“Cooper-” he said, an anger rumbling low under his skin as he came to a realization. “- did you send Sebastian and his men to all these battles in hopes they would fail?”

Cooper’s face was expressionless as if carved in stone. “They were only an army of ten,” he said dismissively.

Blaine was trembling with anger now. “You _are_ mad,” he bellowed. “You did all that because you were what? Jealous? Of Sebastian?”

 Cooper growled. Another ornamental box crashed and shattered on the stone floor. “I am the _king_! Me!”

Blaine clenched and unclenched his fists repeatedly, tamping down his anger. Cooper might be his brother but he was still the king. It would not do to disrespect him.

“You were ready to sacrifice your men- your General- to satiate your self-conceit, brother,” he said. “Does that sound like something a good and just king would do?”

Cooper strode fast to stand before him. Blaine was startled but stood his ground.

“The Saxons are my enemies. So are Sebastian and his Paladin. A good and just king would be clever enough to do what I did- to have my enemies destroy each other.”

Blaine couldn’t listen anymore. “You are your own enemy, brother.”

There was a flicker of hurt in his brother’s eyes. His words seemed to have pierced Cooper’s stoic facade momentarily before his stony expression returned.

Suddenly, the citadel was filled with the blaring sound of the blowing horns, announcing the arrival of the victorious General and his men.

Cooper walked to the opened window and peered out before striding back to Blaine.

“Sebastian will be charged with meddling with sorcery- and that is treason of the highest degree-”

“Cooper, no!” Blaine cried.

“The council will agree with me- how does an army of ten defeat an army of hundreds if not with the help of sorcery?” Cooper said, his tone venomous.

“Cooper, do not do this,” Blaine pleaded, risking touching his brother as he settled his hands on Cooper’s shoulders. “You know this is wrong. You know Sebastian isn’t a sorcerer.”

Cooper reached for Blaine’s hands, holding them in his. “I know I am king and my word is my decree.”

“Cooper-”

“Will you live as my brother, Blaine- or will you die the traitor’s lover?” Cooper asked, those blue eyes of his shining.

Blaine’s heart was pounding, his disbelief flooding his mind and making it spin. He stepped back from Cooper, tugging his hands away as though he had touched fire. Would his brother really harm him? Kill him?

“You are mad, brother,” he said, tears welling in his eyes, heartbroken and petrified.

Cooper composed himself as footsteps approached outside the chamber’s doors. Moments later, the royal advisors strode in. He watched as his brother clasped his hands behind his back once more. “Even if Sebastian isn’t a sorcerer, he still has you under his spell,” Cooper sneered.

As Blaine’s gaze followed the king until he disappeared beyond the doors, it dawned on him that Cooper wasn’t only envious of Sebastian. His brother was envious of who Sebastian was to him; the love of his life, the one he thought the world of.

Growing up, Blaine had looked up to Cooper. In his eyes, Cooper could do no wrong. He thought the world of his brother. They were thick as thieves.

Years passed, he still looked up to Cooper, even more so that his brother was now king- but his attention and affections were divided now. He was madly in love with Sebastian and would opt to spend every waking minute with him if he could. He should have realized that his brother- the king- never did react well to competition.

\-----------------------

The absence of his armour’s weight left his body so much lighter as Sebastian let it clatter to the ground. But his heart remained heavy. His jaw was set tight, every muscle weary after weeks of battle but it still tensed in a defensive stance.

Sebastian looked up along the parapets of the citadel; every guard had their crossbow poised to strike him and his men. Their horses were skittish at the tension filling the air.

“What is the meaning of this?” demanded Leftenant Clarington, Sebastian’s right hand man, his voice booming across the courtyard.

The captain of the King’s Guards stepped forward, breaking rank from the line of men barricading Sebastian’s way up the castle steps.

“Sebastian Smythe, you and the Royal Paladin have been charged with high treason,” the captain said, repeating his scripted words as he had when Sebastian and his men had dismounted their horses earlier. They had been instructed to strip off their armour, deemed unworthy of the Ander crest. The command had gone unchallenged; the Royal Paladins were bound to follow orders.

“We have been through hell and back fighting in the name of the king-” Leftenant Clarington roared. “-and you dare accuse the Paladin of treason?”

Sebastian remained silent, scanning the courtyard. There was no sign of the king- and no sign of Blaine. His lover would usually be the first one down the castle steps the moment the blow horn announced his and the Paladin’s arrival. Had something happened while he was off fighting the Saxons?

Before his mind could worry more about Blaine and his whereabouts, the doors of the council room balcony above flew opened, the king striding out and peering down at the courtyard. Sebastian observed how his moves were slow- and calculated. The way a predator would when approaching a trapped meek prey. Sebastian’s hand instinctively grasped the hilt of his sword.

“Sire-” Sebastian said, taking a step forward before he was blocked by the captain.

“The Royal Paladin has served me well, served the kingdom well,” the king declared, pacing the length of the balcony. “But I cannot in good conscience allow you to continue now that I know the true source of your victories.”

Sebastian’s brows furrowed. What did the king mean? The true source of their victories? The true source was the intelligence, the skill and strength of the Paladin as a collective, nothing less than the force of rigorous training and the bindings of camaraderie.

The king stopped his pacing and peered down at Sebastian, his dark hair like his brother, Blaine’s flowing in waves in the breeze but his eyes- those eyes were nothing like his brother’s. While Blaine’s eyes were warm hazels and kind, the kings were steely and always glinting bluish-green with something akin to envy.

The king always seemed envious, Sebastian thought. He constantly observed the glares the king would direct towards his brother when an occasion clearly displayed the affections the people had for Blaine. Blaine exuded wisdom and drew strength from his intellect compared to the brutish king. More often than not, Blaine would put the needs of the kingdom and the people before his own; a true leader.

The king was well-loved, too, but when his fickleness and eagerness to be adored by those at court and the royal families of the neighbouring realms were measured next to all the admirable traits Blaine possessed, the people’s admiration and loyalties to the youngest son of Ander paled in comparison.

“Sire-” Sebastian tried again, taking another step forward.

“As noble as you are as soldiers-” the king said, his face a mask of feigned regret. “- I cannot allow sorcery in my kingdom.”

“Sorcery?” he gasped.

This didn’t make sense. Was this an elaborate conspiracy to bring down the Royal Paladins? Had someone whispered slander in the king’s ears while he and the Paladins were away?

Sebastian looked directly at the king, searching for answers to this absurdity? But even from a distance, he could see a smirk play on the king’s lips- satisfied, evident.

And then it dawned on him- this was the king’s doing.

But before he could fathom a logical reason, there was a pained yelp from behind him. He turned to find one of the Paladin’s on the ground bleeding, an arrow through his chest.

Then, there was a sudden whirring from above. Arrows soared through the air, hissing dangerously, lethally towards Sebastian and his men.

In one skilled move, Sebastian unsheathed his sword, the grip firm and comforting in his hand and sliced at the oncoming arrows, cutting them down before the tips could pierce through his armourless flesh. Unfortunately, some of his men weren’t as lucky.

How ironic it was- Sebastian thought- to have survived gruesome battles only to be struck down in the haven of your own kingdom?

Sebastian rolled away from the middle of the courtyard when the archers stopped to reload and nock their arrows. The King’s Guards immediately broke rank to form a circle around him and the few of his men left standing, Leftenant Clarington included.

There were four of them now, Sebastian briefly assessed. Four against two dozen of the King’s Guards on the ground and a dozen more up on the parapet. Even though they’ve been through worse, his heart started to race frantically.

An angry growl escaped his throat as he slashed at the advancing King’s Guards as the other Paladins did the same. In unison, Sebastian and his men moved swiftly, their blades a blur as iron clanged against iron. Together they managed to take down half of the King’s Guards while dodging the flying arrows around them.

But the arrows kept raining down on them, their aims precise. Sebastian wasn’t remotely surprised; he had trained the archers himself. He couldn’t help but regret the fact for the briefest second.

It was merely a matter of time before the arrows found their mark. Two more of his men fell- bested, lost. Leftenant Clarington was badly wounded but there was still a lot of fight in him. Sebastian had taken an arrow to the shoulder of his sword arm. On top of the fatigue of previous battles wearing him down, he could barely lift his weapon now.

 _This is it_ , he thought. _This is how it ends_.

Sebastian cast his eyes up to the sky. The sun was high and glaring, the clouds had parted ceremoniously for it to shine down on the land.

In his peripheral view, Sebastian saw the captain approaching fast, his sword lifted above his head, poised to strike.

Sebastian closed his eyes. He was tired- so tired of fighting.

And he waited for the blade to fall.

The deafening clang caused his eyelids to fly open. The course of the captain’s sword was thwarted by another- the blade glinting in the sunlight. He knew the sword well for he had forged it himself.

The Smythe family were blacksmiths by trade. Every man and woman carrying the Smythe name- from every professional rank, might it be a scholar or a soldier- knew how to forge a sword before they learned how to wield it.

Sebastian took a moment to admire the sword; the dragon’s head carved for the pommel, the curved wing guard that gave the wielder a balanced grip, the engraved _Destiny_ and _Heart_ down either side of the fuller, blades grinded so sharp it could split a single hair right down the middle. It was grotesque in all the things it could do- yet it was beautiful.

It was the sword he had forged for Blaine; the prince, the one destined to bear his heart.

Sebastian was quick to fall into place, his back pressed to Blaine to strengthen their defence. Biting down on the pain shooting up his arm, Sebastian lifted his sword in window guard stance, the cool hilt brushing at his ear and his blade pointed forward- challenging, threatening.

There was a rhythm to the way they fought; a synchrony- as it always was with Blaine. _He’s_ _my destiny_ , Sebastian thought as he gracefully pivoted to block an oncoming blow. _He’s the bearer of my heart_.

They fought off a handful of guards easily until-

“Enough!” the king roared.

Sebastian stilled on instinct, obeying the commands of his king. Even the remainder of the King’s Guards halted their attacks.

The king glared down at Sebastian then turned his gaze to Blaine.

“Lay down your sword, brother,” the king commanded. “Yield. Your place is by my side-” The king directed his glare at Sebastian again, eyes gleaming daggers. “- not the traitor’s.”

“I stand in the right, Your Majesty, for what you are doing is clearly not,” Blaine said, pointing at his brother with the tip of his sword- an act of defiance. Sebastian was in awe of the prince, his bravery and courage in the face of tyranny. And he was beautiful, this prince of his, a shining single star that shamed the glaring sun.

The king sneered. “How the traitor has blinded you so that you are willing to go against your king.”

“It is you who are blinded, brother,” Blaine countered firmly although his voice was gentle. “- by your jealousy, by your need to be paramount- over everything.”

A mask of fury fell over the king’s face, his glare murderous now. Silently, he turned and walked away, leaving Sebastian, Blaine and the Guards in a stalemate.

Blaine turned to face Sebastian. He was already falling forward, exhausted, leaning his forehead against his lover’s. For the first time since he had left to battle the Saxons months ago he felt at peace, safe.

“You’re alright, my chevalier?” Blaine asked sweetly, his breath warm against Sebastian’s skin.

Sebastian smiled at the special name his lover liked to call him, an endearment. “Never better, Your Highness.”

Blaine breathed a little laugh.

“Blaine,” Sebastian whispered. “I lov- ”

But the words were stuck in his throat as he felt his mouth filling with blood.

“No, Sebastian!” came Blaine’s scream.

It took a moment before Sebastian felt the sharp pain in his chest. He looked down; a tip of a bloody arrow protruded out of his body. Weakened, Sebastian fell to his knees, Blaine’s arms clutching him in a frantic embrace.

“Sebastian, no, please-” his lover pleaded.

“Blaine-” he rasped, his eyes cast up to the balcony. There was a crossbow in the king’s hand.

 _This is how it ends_.

Sebastian’s vision swam, his focus blurring at the edges but he could see the king nocking another arrow.

“Blaine-” he tried to warn but it was too late.

The arrow left the king’s crossbow in a lethal hiss, lodging straight through Blaine’s back. There was no denying the king was an expert marksman. A paramount.

Blood was spreading wide across the prince’s royal garments, his tunic stained deep red. Blaine fell onto his side, still clutching unto Sebastian and Sebastian fell along with him. He tried to hold on to Blaine’s hand but he was too tired- so tired.

What bliss would slumber be in my lover’s arms, Sebastian wondered absently.

He felt his heart pace slower and slower, his eyes fluttering closed but flew open again when he felt Blaine run a finger across his cheek. The touch left his skin feeling wet- and warm. It was then he saw the blood on Blaine’s hands. Was it his or his lover’s, he couldn’t tell.

“Rest now, my chevalier,” Blaine whispered, the way he always did late at night in their bed.

There was a weak smile on his lover’s lips but it was still the brightest thing he had ever seen. Like a single star.

“I’ll follow you soon,” Blaine rasped.

Sebastian felt a smile creep weakly on his lips, mirroring Blaine’s. He let his eyes fall shut, the weight of his lover’s hand on his face a comfort. Then, he felt himself drifting, like falling off the precipice into sleep. He was so tired.

And then, finally- there was peace.

\----------------

There was a sweet chiming sound that cut through the dark haze of Blaine’s mind, soothing and inviting- like the song of a springul of larks, or perhaps the whistling of the wind through hollow bamboos.

Bright light tore at his vision when Blaine slowly opened his eyes, squinting through the glare. It was only when his sight had adjusted did he become aware of his surroundings.

The chamber had window panes aligned along one wall, the sunlight pouring through the crystalline squares. Along the opposite wall, from ceiling to floor, tiny alcoves were carved into them and each was filled with tiny multi-coloured bowls- or were they cups, Blaine couldn’t say.

He was suddenly aware that he was standing under a wooden-beamed doorway, the opening arching high. He tilted his head up, following the sweet chiming. The source of the sound was something he had never seen before; rolls of iron- or was it steel- in varying lengths strung in a circle, a silken thread with a wooden knob dangled in the midst of it. The gentle banging of the knob against the metallic rolls was what made the chiming sound. Blaine was fascinated.

Stepping cautiously further into the chamber, Blaine’s eyes fell on the table set for two in the middle of the room; it was wooden but finished in a peculiar way- foreign. Even the chairs were carved thin and low, the back rest curving to hug the occupant’s form. The seat shone pearlescent- like the mother-of-pearl his father once brought home after a journey at sea.

Suddenly, there was a curling of black smoke moving fast towards the window. When it cleared, a man appeared- standing by the bureau set under the panes, a kerchief in hand, diligently wiping in the insides of one of the multi-coloured cups.

Blaine coiled back at the sudden presence- but found it strange that he was eerily calm. Usually, his hand would have flown to his hip where his sword lay fastened- the sword his lover forged with his own two hands- and retrieved it to defend himself.

The man, dressed in black, had his back to Blaine, hands still busy with his kerchief and cup. Then, he started to speak. Blaine could hear his voice- deep and welcoming- but couldn’t make out the words. The language- like the furniture- was foreign to him.

“I don’t understand,” Blaine said, taking another step into the room.

The man continued to speak in an unknown tongue.

“Who are you?” Blaine asked.

“ _Jeoseung-saja_ ,” the man said in his foreign language, finally turning to face him, “Or perhaps in your tongue you would call me the Grim Reaper.”

Blaine was stunned. He finally understood what the man was saying. Or did he imagine it?

“Who are you?” Blaine asked again.

The man smiled, his luscious lips curling. Blaine regarded the slope of the man’s nose, the sharp sculpture-like cheekbones and his gentle dark brown eyes. From the man’s fair complexion and the dark raven black hair styled in a manner he had never seen in his kingdom, Blaine surmised him to be from the East, like the people from the Oriental envoy that had once paid his kingdom a diplomatic visit. Still, the man seemed out of place. Perhaps it was Blaine who was out of place.

“I’m sure this all can be a little disorienting,” the man said, carrying a tray with a cup and a teapot on it. “Please, have a seat, Your Highness.”

Blaine held his ground for moment, adamant to know who this stranger was. But there was something about the man that reeled in his trust (it was those gentle eyes, he thought)- and so he did as he was asked, slowly striding closer to the table.

The man gingerly set the tray on the table between them and started pouring the steaming tea into the cup. The drink smelled like herbs and flowers- of jasmines, of rain on grass. When the cup was filled to the brim, the man offered it up to Blaine.

“Thank you,” he breathed as he took a seat, the cup in his hands.

The man nodded solemnly before taking a seat opposite of Blaine.

“Forgive me, Your Highness, where are my manners?” the man said with a chuckle. “I never did answer your query.”

Blaine let his finger trace the rim of the cup, giving his trembling hands something to do as he waited patiently for the man to continue.

“I am the Grim Reaper,” the man said matter-of-factly. “Well, one of many. We are a collective, if you will.”

 _The Grim Reaper_. Blaine’s mind spun, his hand stilling over the cup before falling to his lap.

The Reaper smiled. “Time isn’t linear here. I generally lose track of the time period of the souls I’ll be guiding, hence it took me a while to find to right tongue to speak with you.”

 _The Grim Reaper_. Then that would mean...

“I’ve died, haven’t I?” he whispered.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Blaine felt his blood run cold. He looked down at his chest- a phantom memory of an arrow piercing through him seemed like a lifetime ago. Perhaps it was- now that he had died. And time wasn’t linear here as the Reaper mentioned. He touched his chest. There was no pain.

The Reaper folded his hands on the table before him. “You did well in your life, Your Highness- a just prince to your people. You led them with honour. But your time has come. And you’ve earned your place on the Other Side.”

Blaine let out a stuttered sigh, all the Reaper was saying was overwhelming. There were tears welling in his eyes now.

“This drink-” the Reaper gestured to the cup, “- this is the Tea of Oblivion. It is a mercy from the Divinity. Drink this and you will forget all from this life- so you can move on to the Other Side and on to your next life unburdened.”

Blaine blinked back the tears. “Next life?” he asked.

The Reaper offered another kind smile. “Humans are granted four lives; life of planting, life of watering, life of harvesting and life of using what was harvested. Four reincarnations.”

 A tear trailed down Blaine’s cheek. Another life. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea of another life when he had a lot more to live in the now, in this lifetime, with –

“Sebastian,” Blaine breathed, his chest hurting from a phantom ache.

The Reaper’s face fell. “The noble General.”

Blaine perked at the mention of his lover. A flash of memory played in his mind; Sebastian, handsome as ever bathed in sunlight that streamed over their bed. Sebastian, kissing him ardently. Sebastian, wielding his sword mightily to fight off the Guards. Sebastian, bleeding in his arms.

“Has he... been here?” he asked, choosing his words with care.

The Reaper bowed his head slightly- in respect, in apology. “I’m afraid I cannot say, Your Highness.”

Blaine heaved a relieved sigh. For an odd reason, he was glad the Reaper hadn’t given him an answer. A part of him hoped against all hope that Sebastian survived his wounds.

He looked down at the tea, cupping both hands around the dainty cup.

“So, if I drink this- I will forget... everything?”

“Yes. Everything in this life.”

Everything. Even Sebastian. Blaine’s heart clenched.

“What happens if I don’t drink it?”

The smile returned to the Reaper’s lips. “Memories are glorious things, Your Highness. But they are also a burden. Forgetting is a mercy.”

There was no mercy in forgetting the love of your life, Blaine thought sadly.

“Your memories from this life can weigh you down in the next. It can be... maddening,” said the Reaper kindly. “You will regret not drinking it.”

Blaine stared at the drink, the bits of the tea leaves have settled in a dark pool at the bottom of the cup.

Regret. He would regret not remembering Sebastian, the affections he harboured for his lover. But could he regret something he didn’t remember to begin with?

Moments passed as he felt the tea cooling in his hands, the sweet chiming in the room soothing.

To remember and lament a life no longer yours or to forget and live with a void where the memories should have been?

Regret- such a terrifying thing. To remember, to forget. There was bound to be regret with either, Blaine thought.

Could he regret something he didn’t remember?

Yes, Blaine decided. Yes, he could regret something he didn’t remember to begin with. Because there would be a void in him. He might not know it, but he would feel it. And he would never truly be whole.

“With all due respect-” Blaine said, slowly pushing the cup away from him. “- I choose not to drink this.”

The Reaper let out a little sigh.

“The memories might be a burden- but they are mine,” Blaine said adamantly.

The Reaper regarded him a moment before nodding his head in understanding. The chair scraped loudly against the floor as he stood up. Blaine followed suit.

“Well then, Your Highness- allow me to escort you to your next destination,” the Reaper said, gesturing to a door that hadn’t been there a moment ago; it had manifested in a space in the wall.

Blaine gaped, astounded. It wasn’t until the Reaper held the door open did Blaine will his feet to move, his steps uncertain. He stopped next to the Reaper gazing into the unknown beyond the door.

Then, he turned to the Reaper. “You said humans are granted four lives.”

“Yes.”

“My life before- the one I lived- which one was it?”

The Reaper’s lips curled in that kind smile of his. “Will knowing make a difference in how you’d live your next life?”

Blaine smiled at the question, at how the Reaper had asked knowingly; No, it would not make a difference- because no matter which life he would live next, he would spend it looking for Sebastian.

Blaine nodded courteously at the Reaper. “Thank you.”

Then, he lifted his foot, one after the other, his steps certain this time. This was Death. He knew he should be terrified. But there was a fire burning within him, a determination pulling him along- Sebastian.

With his death, Blaine was denied a life with Sebastian but he was adamant to find his love in the next and reap what he deserved. What they deserved. Together.

Blaine walked on, the sweet chiming merely a tinkling in the distance now. Then, he heard the Reaper’s door nestle closed.

And then, there was only silence.

\--------------------------

The parlour was crowded, as it usually was during the weekends. Sebastian side-stepped a couple who had absent-mindedly taken a careless step back in silent awe as they took in a gorgeous tapestry that hung over one of the exhibition walls.

Sebastian wove his way expertly through the milling crowd, letting the voice of the museum’s audio guide drawl away through his headphones. He knew the words by heart now, knew all the details and history of the medieval artefacts. He had visited the museum every day since the exhibition started a month ago, drawn to everything that the museum housed.

Tugging away his headphones, Sebastian passed the enormous oil painting of a familiar castle and glass cases decked with ancient manuscripts and priceless silverware. His feet carried him by muscle memory, leading him straight to his favourite piece of the exhibition. Once he reached it, Sebastian’s heart stuttered as it always did ever since he first laid his eyes on it.

Behind a long, rectangular glass case, a sword laid regally on a bed of dark red velvet. Sebastian regarded the blade gleaming under the museum’s lights, the intricate carvings along the quillion. It was grotesque, Sebastian thought. And it was beautiful. His eyes traced the dragon’s head pommel with its lips pulled in a snarl and the word _Heart_ engraved down the fuller, feeling the word pull him in as an ache blossomed in his chest.

Sebastian placed a hand over the glass- despite the small plaque placed at the corner of the case reminding museum-goers not to do so- the surface cool to the touch. It was unlike Sebastian to disobey rules or simple instructions but his need to be close to the sword eclipsed all else. The ache in his chest grew- like a void desperately wanting to be filled.

There was a longing thrumming under his skin; one Sebastian had been feeling since he first saw the article in the paper announcing the arrival of the exhibition. **History Through the Ages; Art and Archaeological Discoveries of the Middle Ages** , the headline read in bold letters, luring Sebastian in. Sebastian loved everything to do with history, particularly Arthurian legends and the Middle Ages. There was something romantic about the Middle Ages, he found- something simpler, noble.

Oh how he wished we could turn back time.

Sebastian let his eyes fall closed, the familiar longing roaming in every crevice of him. To turn back time, he yearned. To be whole, he longed.

A moment passed before Sebastian opened his eyes again, surprised by the tears welling in them now. He withdrew his hand from the glass and made quick to wipe his spilling tears with the cuffs of his shirt, the colour darkening where the wet stains were. He took a step back- before the longing grew too maddening, before the loneliness set too deep.

His eyes traced the sword from tip to hilt one last time before he turned on his heel to leave. He took no more than five steps before he stopped again, feeling a pull so great reeling him back to the sword.

Slowly, Sebastian turned. The sword glinted as ever under the lights- but this time, a man stood before the exhibit and standing out amongst the crowd, like a single star in the dark sky. And he was looking straight at Sebastian.

Heart hammering in his chest, Sebastian regarded the man; the waves of dark hair, the slight twitch of a smile on his lips. Sebastian took an unsteady step forward, his breath catching within. The longing that was thrumming under his skin, in his bones, weighted him down like an anchor yet there was a lightness in his step, an eagerness. Sebastian gravitated towards the man, his body moving with muscle memory his mind had long forgotten it possessed. He couldn’t quite explain what was happening.

They were a feet apart now, Sebastian and the man. Neither of them spoke, simply standing there, eyes taking in one another. He could see the glistening tears in the man’s eyes, feeling his own well up again.

“Do you... know who I am?” the man asked, his voice a whisper barely breaking the silence between them.

Sebastian stood stalk still, not quite sure of the question- or the answer.

He slowly let his mind wander, feeling around in the void within him, the chasm that left him feeling empty all these years, these centuries. He searched the age-old memories he had carried like a burden, memories he kept when he declined the Tea of Oblivion, his eyes falling to the sword in the case behind the man- until he found the one thing that rang deafeningly true:

“You are the one destined to bear my heart,” Sebastian breathed.

A gush of relieved sigh escaped the man’s lips, tears streaming down his face. His beautiful face, Sebastian thought.

“My chevalier.”

Sebastian reeled back at the familiar term of endearment.

Blaine.

The room felt as though it was fading and spinning all at once. And there was nothing, no one save-

Blaine.

Blaine. And the memories- their memories. Blaine must have refused the Tea of Oblivion, too, Sebastian gathered. Blaine must have chosen to bear the burden of the memories, too.

Sebastian surged forward, taking Blaine into his arms, his hands grabbing at every bit of him he could touch, burying his fingers in dark curls.

Blaine.

Blaine’s grip around him was crushing but it didn’t matter. The feel of Blaine’s hands desperately clenching and unclenching fistfuls of his shirt assured him this was real, that this wasn’t one of his aching dreams of longing for Blaine, for a life he had lost. Sebastian buried his nose in Blaine’s curls- just as gleaming and raven black as he remembered- and inhaled. The scent of Blaine was new but it was familiar, it was real- further solidifying that this wasn’t merely a manifestation of his longing.

All too soon, Blaine pulled away slightly and looked up at Sebastian, the dark brown of his eyes still as kind and warm as ever.

“I’ve watched you every day- in the museum. I’ve watched you every day you were here,” Blaine said, slightly breathless.

Every day, Sebastian thought. Every day for a month. Blaine was here all along.

“Every day?” he asked softly, a finger curling gingerly around one of Blaine’s loose curls- just because he could.

“I wanted to go to you- that very first day-” Blaine said, his voice breaking. “- but I couldn’t. I don’t- I didn’t know if you’d remember anything, if you’d... remember me.”

Sebastian moved his hands to cup both sides of Blaine’s face. His beautiful face, Sebastian thought happily.

“Every day. I wanted to. Every day when you’d linger by the sword. I hoped- I hoped so much-”

“Blaine-” he whispered, the name rejuvenating his mouth, his tongue, his soul.

“I’m sorry that I-” Blaine started to say but Sebastian had leaned in to capture his lips, kissing him ardently.

Sebastian savoured the taste of the kiss, gently worrying Blaine’s bottom lip between his teeth, tongue licking languidly into his long-lost lover’s mouth- a thousand year-old memory made anew. He kept kissing and kissing Blaine, the longing vanquished, the void within filling with the feeling of home.

Breathless, Sebastian slowly broke apart from the kiss, resting his forehead on Blaine’s.

“I wasted so much time. I’m sorry,” Blaine breathed, his breath tickling Sebastian’s skin, igniting him like a roaring flame born from dying embers. Sebastian finally, _finally_ felt alive.

“You’re here now,” Sebastian said, tilting back to look into Blaine’s eyes, fingers tracing down his face. There was absolutely no need for apologies. “We’re here now- together.”

Blaine sighed, the relief apparent and let his forehead fall to Sebastian’s chest.

Sebastian pulled Blaine closer, reaching to twirl another one of his lover’s loose curls because Blaine was in his arms- _finally_ \- he thought joyfully. And simply because he could.

“We’re here now.”

\---END

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.  
> Comments welcomed.
> 
> Note: _Leftenant_ is the archaic spelling for Lieutenant. Might not suit the time period but I thought it sounded better.


End file.
